“A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse…” I wish I had a horse. Perhaps you’re wondering why a mermaid wants a horse… well, it is not a matter of life or death – just a matter for regret – and if you had gone to Rosie’s farm with me today you wouldn’t need to ask.

My sister, Mary, is farm-sitting again so I thought I would go over on my bike and lend a hand, and at the same time I would burn off a few more calories (back on the diet – so far so good, but it has only been a day!). After a nice cup of tea Mary and I decided to take the four dogs for a walk in the fields, and we would say hello to the llamas en route because, although they look skittish and haughty, they really love human company. We had only just left the farmhouse when we saw a very pleasant sight ahead of us.

“What’s that?” asked Mary with a smile.

“Lady Chatterley’s lover,” I replied.

In fact he wasn’t a gamekeeper at all, but the description fitted somehow for he was not a townie; he looked perfectly at one with the farm surroundings, stood, as he was, beside a big spotty horse. The handsome farrier grinned.

“Nobody has said anything like that since I was in my twenties,” he said modestly.

After our initial surprise we contemplated for a moment then nodded our heads.

“We’re not horse people,” Mary made sense of it.

“Horse people must love their horses (more than handsome men),” I followed her drift.

“Tim’s the best farrier in the whole world,” said the lady with the horse.

“The world?” queried Mary.

“This is my world,” she shrugged, “but this is my daughter’s horse, and I’ve known Tim since he was seventeen.”

Mary and I observed the young man’s muscular arms and the deft way he handled the horse’s hooves and the tools of his trade. We had never seen a farrier at his work before, except in the movies, or Westerns, and, fascinated, we stayed and watched, not least because the old farrier in “Gun Smoke” never looked like Tim. Being of good nature, Tim seemed not to mind me taking photographs for my blog today, and being very interested, I took great many.

At last Malacca Nebone (if I remember the horse’s name rightly – I think it means “shining stars” in Sudanese) was shod, we said our goodbyes (reluctantly), and Mary and I continued on our walk to the field where the llamas were desperate for company.

“I wish it had been a hotter day today,” said Mary wistfully as she hosed fresh water into the llamas’ trough.

“I know what you mean…” I agreed.

“Then he would have had to take his shirt off!” we said together and laughed.

And should you happen to own a horse (lucky you) that requires the services of “the best farrier in the world” (lucky you) look up Tim D. Hughes DipWCF, from Newton Abbot, Devon.